


How Did It Go, Again

by kat_blue



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: ...Kinda, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Human, Cold War, Enemies to Lovers, Fairy Tale Elements, Great Depression, M/M, Mild Blood, but only in chapter 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:27:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27538321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_blue/pseuds/kat_blue
Summary: How it should've gone, how it could've gone, how it did go - Ivan, Alfred, and something to the left of love
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Kudos: 9





	1. A Bedtime Story

There were once two princes who loved beautiful things.

They could not sleep, for the strength of their love kept them awake, thinking on the most beautiful things they knew. The most beautiful of all, of course, was the entire world. And they determined they would not sleep again until they had it for themselves.

Both of them were equally powerful. Both of them were equally clever. Both of them ached with longing until their hearts broke, shattered into uncountable pieces, and then both of them were equally heartless.

When they met across the battlefield, with the entire world as the gamble, they gazed with cold and smiling eyes upon each other.

The prince from the cold East spoke, and he said, “I would risk all I have to defeat you and claim my prize.”

The prince from the untamed West spoke, and he said, “I would risk all I do not have yet, because I will claim it all as my prize.”

The Eastern prince said, “You will never gain it all. You will never have what I have.”

And in that moment, the Western prince suddenly realized it was true--for now. And suddenly the world itself was not beautiful if he could not also have that which the Eastern prince had. He replied, “I will have everything. I will have all that is yours.”

And in that moment the Eastern prince overflowed with hatred for the other, and furiously, he said, “Never.  _ I _ will have  _ yours _ .”

But as he raised his sword to strike the first blow, the Western prince met him, steel against steel, and said, “Impossible. I hunger for more than you could ever satiate. I will have all you have, and all the rest. It will be mine.”

The Eastern prince said, “You could never know the depths of my hunger. What you have is not enough. I will have yours, and the world, and everything beyond.”

In his rage, the Western prince struck wildly, and shouted at the other, “You could not dream of what will be mine! You cannot take more than I shall!”

The Eastern prince, calm in his cold fury, said, “I will take it all.”

And the Western replied, “Then I shall take  _ you _ .”

And in their avarice, they consumed the entire world, and each other as well.


	2. It Should've Gone Like This

_Moscow, 1932_

America's smile is the most beautiful thing Russia has, the only thing with color in his world. He had no intention of letting America stay, no matter how much he claimed he merely needed work and a place to sleep--and now that bright, sincere, guileless grin is the only reason Ivan looks forward to coming back home.

When Alfred, dancing, pulls him into a spin, singing a jazz song about ridiculous fairy-tale wealth, Ivan craves something so sweet he could faint.

It’s not hunger.

Ivan doesn’t dare think the thought.

Not during the day, when the inside of his head seems projected around him for the secret police to scrutinize.

Never at night, as Alfred lays beside him, fully clothed and shivering, claiming he merely means to keep warm as he presses close enough for Ivan to feel his heartbeat.

Not even while drunk, the most dangerous time of all, as Alfred sings and laughs and wraps his arms around Ivan’s waist, says, “Don’cha know how to swing dance, you backwards old sunvabitch? It goes like _this_ \--” and dips Ivan back and holds him there, suspended against gravity, as Ivan’s head spins and not from dancing and not from vodka and Alfred’s gleaming smile is an inch from his own mouth, warm and genuine, and Ivan cannot think of anything in the world except that he must not even _think_ of it.

And then America must go home.

And then before he does he presses Ivan against the wall, in public, just out of view, and he doesn’t smile at all, and before Ivan can remind himself to not even _think_ \--Alfred kisses him, and he doesn’t think. He kisses back.

And maybe, maybe, Alfred doesn’t leave. Maybe he’s made a home here, with someone else who’s lonely and broken, and together they’re whole again.

But that’s not how it goes.


	3. It Could've Gone Like This

_Moscow, 1932_

Ivan Vladimirovich Braginsky fought in the Revolution, but in the cold Moscow dawn ten years later he has no one left. By mere coincidence he runs into Alfred F. Jones, a stranger, an immigrant with terrible Russian, an irritatingly cheerful man who refuses to admit he has no one either.

They room together because it is convenient. Ivan does not like him. Alfred is too much, like a firework exploding in a small space. Blindingly bright, singeing his mark onto all that encounter him, sure to burn out and perish.

They are but humans, after all.

And they are only human, and Alfred says to him one cold evening how lonely he really is, how he has nothing more to give and it still is not enough. And Ivan, quiet and thoughtful, will not be like him, not willing to spill his soul on the ground for sympathy. He refuses to be like him.

But they are alone, in this cold dark room, with the stars bright in the night sky beyond, and Ivan can’t lie anymore.

One is bright and loud and far from home, the other is quiet and unobtrusive and has nothing to call home either. They are very, very much alike.

And Ivan presses his lips to Alfred’s, who closes his eyes and grasps Ivan’s shoulder to keep him there. No one sees, no one but they themselves.

And maybe they will die alone, maybe nothing will ever be enough. But they have each other right now.

But they are not human. It can’t go like that either.


	4. But It Did Go Like This

_Moscow, 1991_

In 1991 Russia has a heart attack as only Empires do, collapses to the ground coughing up blood, not even a hundred years after the last time he did this.

America stands above him, watching, glasses gleaming blank above a small smile.

Then Alfred reaches out, offers a hand.

“Fuck you,” Ivan spits. It comes out spattered with his own blood.

Alfred smiles more. “I’ll help you. Let me get you back on your feet.”

“I don’t want your charity!” Dying always hurts, but this one is particularly cruel. A public display, all for America’s entertainment.

And he is clearly entertained, chuckling as he refuses to let his hand be pushed aside by Ivan’s weak blow. “I thought that was what communism was all about--see, you’re learning to be capitalist already!”

“I hate you,” Ivan mutters through bared teeth, “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you…”

“That’s nice, Vanya, but you’re not getting off the floor on your own.” He takes Ivan by the shirt-front, grips tight.

Before Alfred can drag him up, Ivan growls and yanks him down, almost manages to bring him to his knees, _almost_. “I will see you _dead_. I will see _you_ on the floor, and I will stand on your _neck_ \--”

With a smirk, Alfred kisses him. “See you then, Vanya.”

Snarling, Ivan pulls him back in for another one, bruisingly hard, bites his lip, lets himself be pulled upright as Alfred, the maniac, laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> *Jumps over actual deathly serious international tensions to write nationboys kissing*  
> Cheesy but it was fun writing it. This is technically fanfic of my own fanfic that I never published  
> Based on a tumblr post I can't find anymore that suggested a fic format of "It could've gone like this - it should've gone like this - but it really went like this"


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